Divided

 

As we continue 
to add to the legacy
of our country’s imperfections

our political extremes 
are once again 
weaponized

bombs
long range rifles
don’t answer the door.

With compassion gone
and outrage appearing only when
one of your own falls victim

it’s has become hard to tell 
if this is a Fascist overthrow of the governed
or the beginning of the next Civil War

            or both.

We now face the fear
that we have always been divided
and may forever be

as we once again watch
the dream of our democracy grow faint
when we choose to no longer 
respectfully manage our dissension.

September 2025

Ken Owen Van Niddy Press

Nothing Left to Do

Bikes without pedals,
shoes with faux laces,
zombies with cell phones
invading our spaces.

We can't go 5 minutes
in being alone
without someone crying
“Oh my god, where’s my phone?”

All-over body sprays
when our odors are scathing
I’m sure were not meant
to keep us from bathing.

With once-a-week shots
to control all our cravings,
we hope that the side effects
will not have us raving.

A.I. gives answers
requiring no thinking,
and leaves us all much more
time for day drinking.

Social media will tell you
what you want to believe,
while the truth lies somewhere
between all who deceive.

Now cars without drivers
park better than you,
so with all this free time
what will you do?

-inspired by Dorothy Parker
September 2025

Journal: September 2025

Our ability
  to quietly observe life
stolen by cell phones

09/02/2025

Journal: August 2025

 I now realize
that people wear headphones
not to escape their reality
but to escape your reality

-Doctor’s waiting room while experiencing someone's 

FaceTime call with their grandkids, 08/07/2025

Heavy rock music
drifts on fog across the park,
ravens unimpressed

-Golden Gate Park, Outside Lands Festival, 08/08/2025

Birth and Death 

I watched the massive 

hospital expansion project from 

the 8th floor waiting room window 

captivated by the immense effort required

to give birth to the new buildings

until my concentration was broken

by a black hearse driving slowly away

down an old access road 

alone and without ceremony

-UCSF Hospital, August 2025

A Retraction on Kenneth Rexroth

After saying his poems 

were overblown and too serious

I found this brilliant stanza as proof

he actually could get to the point 

in less than 25 pages:

Vulture

“St. Thomas Aquinas thought

That vultures were lesbians

And fertilized by the winds.

If you seek the facts of life,

Papist intellectuals

Can be very misleading.”

08/14/2025

Awake and Dreaming

We have given our learning machines 

the wealth of our collective knowledge

but since they do not sleep 

they have hallucinations

by using random bits 

of data and images 

to create false realities 

which perfectly describes 

what happens each night 

when I dream

08/26/2025

They say one should exercise

the body as well as the mind

but I have yet to see a jogger smiling

like I do when I read a book

08/28/2025

First to Go, Last to Leave

we don’t write poems
about death
when we’re young

death lies anchored
just beyond our horizon
so why bother

there is much sailing to do

there is plenty of time
to write poems about death
when we’re old

as we realize 
time now holds 
a different purpose

we begin each day 
when we want
how we want

yet always tired from long nights
trying to understand messages
from restless visitations

we reflect with friends
on the adventures 
that brought us here

we look at each other 
silently judging our decline by
comparing skin tone and hair gone silver

we share notes
on doctors and procedures
ailments and medications

we exchange 
our love and gratitude
for healing

we wonder in silence 
who will be the first to go
and the last to leave

we notice all things great and small
that we missed and vow

never to miss them again

we appreciate how the daylight 
shines brilliantly now
and clouds shape the day

as we turn our gaze
just past the horizon
and remind ourselves

there is still much sailing to do

Ken Owen August 2025 Van Niddy Press

Breakfast at the Sock Hop Diner

I wonder what the Chinese elders think 

of the music of The Big Bopper and Buddy Holly

when they come for breakfast 

at the sock hop diner 

in the old neighborhood.

Most have a look on their face

as if they wouldn’t care for this music

even if they could hear it

(which they probably can’t)

Besides, with brows furrowed in heavy concentration

and assisted by loving sons and daughters

to make sure each step lands soft and sure, they are 

simply too busy to pay attention to the lyrics to “Get A Job.” 

I’d suppose they might enjoy some songs of this era

that have lovely orchestrations such as 

“Since I fell For You” or “True Love Ways”

but turning up their hearing aid only to hear

someone bellowing, “Oh baby, that’s-a what I like!”

could be a risky distraction 

when the possibility of a bad fall 

looms with every step

and is probably why they leave

their hearing aides on the bedside table

when their loving sons and daughters

take them to breakfast at the sock hop diner

in the old neighborhood.

—Mel’s Diner, Geary Street, San Francisco, 07/08/25

Pain Rides A Train

Having received his first assignment and destination, he waited patiently at the station for his train. Upon its arrival, he slowly boarded with a mixture of caution and curiosity. With his head slightly bowed so as to observe but not make eye contact, he walked past the buzzing hangover headaches in the bar car, then through the dinner car full of rumbling gastronomical upsets, and made his way into the crowded passenger car.

Breaking his concentration, a voice bellowed, “This seat is open, if you’d like. The gent just got off at the last station. A throbbing toothache, I believe.” The unassuming new rider bowed slightly and murmured a quiet, “Thank you.” 

Everything about his new seat mate was large, formidable, persistent, and confident in purpose. You could tell he was not one to be taken lightly. “Where you headed?” he rumbled.

“Oh yes, right…,” stumbled the new rider, reaching for his paperwork. He quickly glanced down at his instructions and destination. “Just a slight pain in the knee, it says here. Seems he’s over-exercising lately, but it doesn't say why.” 

“Well,” said his seat mate, leaning over and lowering his voice to his best attempt at a whisper, “there are rumors about him trying to lose weight and start dating again.”

 

“And may I ask, where are you headed?” asked the knee pain. 

“Lower back, debilitating spasms, all brought on by stress. Says here it will be at least a 2-week assignment that may get extended,” said the back pain. 

“Oh my,” was all the knee pain could muster in response while staring at his paperwork.

“Your first assignment, I take it?” asked the back pain. 

“Why, yes,” said the knee pain.

 “Makes sense,” said the back pain. “They usually assign you small jobs when you first start out.” 

Just then, all the gastric rumblers in the dining car and the buzzing headaches in the bar car went silent when they saw who was waiting for the train as it pulled into the next station. 

“Oh dear,” said the back pain while looking out the window. “Well, it all makes sense now. I’d guess this train is going to see a great deal of new commuters for a while.” 

The knee pain quickly looked to see who’d gotten everyone’s attention. 

He stood alone on the platform, tall with a black overcoat and hat, carrying a briefcase, with a despondent look on his face and a faraway look in his eyes. 

“Who is he?” asked the knee pain. 

“That’s a heartache, dear boy. He’s the reason all the rest of us are here.” 

“What do you suppose is in his briefcase?” asked the knee pain. 

“Memories…lots of memories.” 

And as he slowly boarded and the train cars fell silent, heartache took a seat by himself and stared out the window as if he was looking for an answer in the night sky.

Ken Owen    July 2025    Van Niddy Press

After A Long Clear Night

 

Early morning
the large grove of trees
on the other side of my window
sleeping in
after a long clear night
of people punching holes in the sky
and filling them with loud bangs of color.

Birds of all sizes and colors
searching hard for breakfast
on a still and windless morning
after a long clear night

where the wind stayed off-shore
and held back the night fog
while it watched the show
it usually denies.

The trees stir slowly now
as the wind makes its way home
and people rise slowly from celebrating
after a long clear night.


—after a long clear night in San Francisco, July 4, 2025